Wrong Address
by Gender Outlaw
Summary: Tyler can't figure out why Luke isn't answering the door, until he realizes it isn't Luke at all on the other side.
The house is only two stories, but it's cozy and the shutters are painted dark blue. And Tyler is standing on the porch, afternoon sunshine blinding him from the right as he knocks, and knocks again.

"Come on man, hurry up!" He yells, hands cupped around his mouth and face pressed against the door, trying to see through the glass.

The shadow of a figure is silhouetted through the white lacy curtains that give some semblance of privacy to Luke's front door.

Seriously, Luke? Tyler never quite figured him for the type.

"We're going to be late for the show at this rate!" He knocks again, and the shadow comes closer to stop just behind the door.

"' _Sure, come on over,'_ you said. _'I'll be ready by three no problem.'"_ Tyler presses his face directly against the small glass window and breathes. His nose pressed into the condensation. "It's almost fucking four o'clock! We are _beyond_ late."

The figure stands on the other side. It's hard to make out, but ..

That may not be Luke.

Tyler blinks, and pulls back from the window, the evaporating fog leaving a tiny pig's face. He reaches into his side pocket to pull out the paper he wrote the address on.

204 Westwood.

Leans back to check the numbers on the house. Yup. Two zero four.

Turns around and looks at the street sign at the nearby corner.

Goddamn Westwood and Elm.

It's the right fucking address, so what the hell?

"What the hell, Luke!" Tyler turns to scream at the door again, only to find it already open, a stranger standing on the other side.

Shorter than him by atleast a foot, blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and .. tugging on a shirt that better be entirely coincidental, looking nervous as all hell and why is this person blushing?

Tyler is being glared at too, behind those pretty unfamiliar reddening cheeks, and can't help the nagging feeling that this is all some kind of awful joke.

"You .." Words stumble out of him. "Nice shirt," Tyler blurts, and kicks himself mentally, face grimacing at his awkward tongue.

The blonde looks down at the deep blue fabric, a very distinguishable symbol on the front. And opens his mouth to speak–

In Tyler's back pocket his phone rings, so he holds one finger up in the universal _wait a minute_ gesture, and digs it out.

It's Luke.

Tyler presses the green 'accept call' button, and starts bellowing into the receiver over the hurried words from the other end that he easily drowns out.

" _Where in the HELL are you?_ Did you send me on a wild fucking goose chase or what? I'm at the address you gave me and _you aren't here!_ There's just some blonde guy here and –" Tyler mouths 'sorry' to the stranger, who only nods in reply. "What the fuck is going on? Is this supposed to be some kind of sick joke? Make me come all the way out here and waste my time telling me we're going to go see the Star Wars premiere? You think this kind of shit is funny? Well, _do you?"_

Tyler is breathing heavy at the end of his rant, and holds the phone at arms length, fingers clenched into pale whiteness around it as he gives the cell a look he really wished he could be giving Luke right now.

Dead silence on the other end.

Until, " _Are you done now?"_ Comes through. Luke sounding tired and out of breath himself. "Or do you want to continue yelling at me some more?"

Tyler bites out, "I'm finished", his tone clearly anything but.

"Listen man," his phone mutters. "I'm sorry but I gave you the wrong address.." There is shuffling on the other end. "Just .. just come a little further down the road, okay? I'll tell you how to get here."

Tyler takes a deep breath and lets out a sigh that rolls from the bottom of his lungs out his mouth. "Fine," he grumbles, and starts down the porch steps, half-turning around once to wave a _I'm sorry_ goodbye when he stops completely.

White Jason mask, red lettering spelling out his friend's name, on that dark blue shirt.

"Luke?" Tyler asks the caller, uncertainty creeping up his spine. "Where exactly am I..?"

There is no reply. Just faint shuffling as someone paces on the other end.

Tyler can't stop staring at the shirt, and his eyes automatically move up to that foreign face as the guy starts walking towards him, a faint, reluctant smile on those lips.

He takes the phone out of Tyler's hands. Flips the case around and holds it to his ear.

Says, "It's okay Luke. I've got him." And hangs up.

Mother. Fucking. Shit.

Tyler's eyes widen immediately, the obvious answer finally snapping into place.

 _"Delirious?"_

Jonathan nods, still grinning. Cheeks still flushed.

"I.." Tyler gapes, only half the words he's thinking making it out. "Blonde? You have blonde hair? I always thought – I mean your GTA character.."

"Yeah well," Jonathan laughs, scratching at his hair in a clear nervous habit. "If we're going by that, you should have on pig ears and zebra striped pants right now."

Tyler manages a, "Well, shit." Still not quite finished processing.

Then produces a wide, ear to ear grin and pulls Delirious into the tightest hug he can physically make. Laughing against the feeble cries of ' _Help! I can't breathe!'_ that are pressed into his chest.


End file.
